Tuesday, June 19, 2012

I hate throwing parties

In the third grade, I threw a birthday party at the local skating rink of my hometown.
I wore a white Tommy Hilfiger dress, my parents ordered pizza & sodas, & I got to pick my gift: I chose a pink beanie baby bunny. 
I basically thought I was hot shit & it was going to be the greatest day, ever. 
At the rink, I roller skated until the whole place felt like it was spinning around me. I sat down to take a break. My family was there, at our party table, looking worried. 
& that's when I realized: two and a half hours into my party, no one had come. 

& No one came.

A couple of hours later, my mom started packing up the pizzas and sodas and cake into our van and we left. It was the first time I'd ever truly been devastated. (Also, I told this story to Gaga & Fatty over lunch pretty recently: Gaga laughed so hard, he began to cry. I told him today that our friendship is skating on thin ice without a proper winter coat.)

To be honest, I've basically been a psycho ever since then. 

Every birthday or ugly sweater party or whatever that I'm planning, I get anxious: "what if no one shows up?"
Sometimes I sweat.

But I had a party Saturday. 
A lot of my friends came.
I drank consistently from noon to 9 pm until I had to forcibly be put into my bed because I was sobbing about missing Mozzarella. 
I got a lot of presents. Which isn't what birthdays are about, but also, is. 
One of my friends from home came all the way up, brought me several bottles of alcohol, and a Michael Kors purse--WOW. I was basically amazed. My other presents were great, too, just a lot less worth mentioning. (JUST KIDDING, FRIENDS WHO GOT ME STUFF WHO MIGHT BE READING. I LOVED YOUR GIFTS).
Worth mentioning, though, is that Fatty brought me a cake that was rectangular and white with stripes of strawberry jam separated by columns of white frosting stars, her gift was in a red bag with white and blue tissue paper--she said her gift theme was patriotism. I love my friends. 

My actual birthday was Tuesday: I had lunch with Fatty, Gaga, & Solo at the same burger place Fatty tricked me into going (AND THEN SHE DIDN'T EVEN SHOW UP) for my birthday dinner last year, I took Solo to the Sunken Gardens here where he poked koi fish with his sunglasses and then we went home and napped until 8. Solo woke up to watch the game while I changed. We met up with one of my friends from my summer internship and had reverse happy hour at a sushi house. I had three (very strong) margaritas, a margherita pizza, and a Philadelphia roll (hold your judgment, please), and again, had to be forcibly put into bed after telling Solo repeatedly how I couldn't feel my face (now judge). My mom got me a tea pot painted with cherry blossoms and a sushi serving set for my birthday. I'm telling you this because I'm just now realizing how Japanese my 25th birthday was. 

 What's weird is that this comes up when you google, "Japanese Stereotypes."
But anyway:

The point is, I've now been 25 for a week. 
& I'm still the same joke I was at 24, except now I got to an internship 5 days a week.
But I'm still the only person who wears blue jean shorts & gets there after 10. 
In my defense, the attorney I work for wears t-shirts and jeans everyday and sometimes doesn't come in until after lunch. I see no reason to show up earlier than my attorney or dress nicer than he does. Or so I've convinced myself. 

I don't necessarily think being a joke is a bad thing. 
I like that I don't take myself too seriously.

Where I'm going with this, I guess if I had to pick a place to go from here, is that life keeps going and keeps being the same, more or less.
Birthdays are nothing to stress about (birthday parties, on the other hand...). 

1 comment:

  1. Awww that's terrible about your third grade party! =[ I would've went...
    You shouldn't even stress, it sounds like your days of party-abandonment are over, especially since everyone coordinated around American and Japanese themed presents for you. Right? RIGHT!?

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